The Cupboard
by Trotsky Strikes Back
Summary: The cupboard under the stairs is cold, silent and dark. And it's a great place to meditate, too. And meditation, well, that's the way of the Jedi.
1. May the force be with me?

Harry put the plates of eggs and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there weren't much space. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his gifts.

"Thirty six" He said, looking up to his father and mother "That's two less than last year!"

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right'?'

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. "Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a new VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. _Yes! Yes! Yes!_ Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned. But not this time.

 _Yes!_

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

… _Please let me stay… Please let me stay… Please let me stay…_

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

 _Not Marge!_

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly "... and leave him in the car..."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang - "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically - and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Vernon's face contorted like he was solving one of those crucigrams that came with the newspaper.

"Listen to me, boy, and listen very carefully" He whispered, spit flying everywhere. "If when we come back, there is a single slice of ham missing, or any sign of freakishness tainting our perfectly normal house…" He let the threat hang up.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon" Harry's voice came in a high-pitched tone. "I'll behave."

Sparing him one last malicious look, Vernon turned around, and started walking to the hall. Harry let go of the air he was holding, and adjusted his eyeglasses –they almost fell, which would have surely gotten him some punishment-. As he watched the front door closing, he could hear Vernon greeting the Polkiss.

"Ha!" Uncle Vernon gleefully said "I told you Arsenal would win against Newcastle! You should be thankful we didn't bet!"

Harry couldn't hear Piers's answer, as the door was shot and he, was finally free.

Not believing his luck, he waited until he felt was safe and checked the window, setting aside the white curtain. Maybe this was another sick joke from his relatives, but maybe…

 _Just maybe… maybe they were gone._

Yes!

Harry ran to the stairs, and jumping the steps got to the second floor of the house. He wasn't really allowed upstairs since there were not many chores to do - Just cleaning, and that, was Petunia's thing- But this was the first time being alone in the house in a long while, and he didn't plan on wasting it.

His feet seemed to carry him thoughtlessly to Dudley's room. He slowly pushed the door –it wouldn't do him any good if one of the countless toys in the floor broke-. And sheepishly entered the room.

The Dursleys wouldn't come back for maybe, another 3 hours. And that meant only one thing.

 _Movies_.

The television looked new, even by Dudley standards, and last year Aunt Marge had gifted his cousin a VCR player along with some tapes. Harry knew for a fact that Dudley had never seen them. The span attention that a movie required wasn't really something his cousin could meet, and even if he did, Harry suspected that some movie plots would be too complicated for Dudley to understand.

The movies were just what Harry would expect from Marge. Dogs, dogs, and dogs. Football playing dogs. Basketball playing dogs. Even a documentary, the story of the space dog Laika, the first being to go to outer space –If Harry was sure of something in life, it was that Dudley hadn't watched that-.

And yet, one caught his eye.

Harry wasted no time, and the movie was on play even before he had really considered watching it or not.

Only one word was around his mind while he watched, leaning his head against Dudley's bed.

 _Awesome_.

He stared in silence, not fully understanding some things, and yet, he couldn't take one thing from his mind.

 _Could he do the things he had seen Vader do? Was that the reason he was called a… a freak?_

Of course, Harry wasn't stupid. He remembered those times when weird things happened around him, and yet, he always thought them coincidences. But now, what was he to think now?

Harry discarded the thought. It was a science fiction movie; of course freakish things would happen! Maybe he should have watched Laika's documentary if he wanted no freakishness, thank you very much!

His heart took a leap as he heard the sound of a parking car. It was obvious his family would come back sooner, even if it was only to make his life miserable! He hastily turned off the television and ran down the stairs. Harry really wanted to eat something tonight, and if his uncle catched him in Dudley's room…

Knowing he was expected to stay on his cupboard, he opened the door and made his fast entrance, crashing his head against the frame.

"Ow!" Harry whined, rubbing the sore spot.

He closed the door the same time his family were entering the house, and immediately knew he had done forgotten something. He had let the cassette in the VCR , and as soon as Dudley turned on his TV, he would realize something was wrong!

 _Oh, well._

There wasn't much he could do now, was it? He turned the lamp off, and pretended to sleep, hoping the hurricane to pass.

* * *

Surprisingly, the days passed without much disturbance at number four, Privet Drive, if you didn't count that day Vernon had gotten into an argument with the mailman about the state of the envelopes he delivered. Dudley hadn't tattled on him and instead had become a Star Wars fanatic, not sparing a second thought onto how had the movie made it into the player. His cousin made his parents buy him all kind of toys, and the next two movies too. Harry hadn't had the chance to watch the next one yet, but knew enough about it from hearing his cousin talk.

"And then he went to a planet called Dagobah, dad!" Dudley exclaimed, making gestures with his hands "It is a place full of swamps, and its very humid, like a jungle! There, Luke found an ancient Jedi Master, called Yoda. It reminded me of Harry, he was really skinny and small, and talked backwards..."

Harry listened to the conversation avidily, while he picked up the table, hoping to hear more about the plot. He really doubted he would get to see the movie, at least for now.

"Ha!" Nerviously laughed Uncle Vernon "Stop talking about such nonsense, Dudley! There is no Dabroga and shiddi masters seem like a bunch of freaks to me!"

"But Daad" Whined Dudley "You don't know that, its like Master Yoda said! Luke was angry and said it was impossible to lift his ship with the Force, and Yoda told him that is why he failed! And then he showed him, he lifted the entire thing with his mind! The Jedi go through a lot of training, you know? They meditate, that means that they try to feel the Force around them, and channel it through their bodies to…"

"Enough, Dudley!" Vernon raged, standing up, face all flushed "Go to your room, NOW."

Harry was startled, and watched hopelessly as the 3 plates he was carrying fell to the floor, breaking. _Vernon never yelled at Dudley. Never._ The silence lasted a couple of seconds, and soon enough, Harry felt himself in the air, being carried and thrown into the wooden floor of his cupboard.

"And stay there!"

 _Oh yes. This was going to be a long one_.

* * *

He was dying out of boredom.

Harry guessed it had been three days since he was thrown in with his friends, the spiders. Of course, he was fed and could leave to go to the bathroom, his guardians wouldn't abuse him too much. What would the neighboors say?

Harry stretched his hand, caressing the rotten wood of the floor. He was sitting in it, since a while ago he felt like changing positions from the bed to the floor. Having nothing to do, it didn't take long for Harry's thought to wander to Star Wars.

 _Why did Uncle Vernon get so mad? Of course, he doesn't like freakishness, but he had never scolded Dudley before... Maybe there was some true to it? Was that why Uncle Vernon got so nervous?_

 _Can I really use the force?_

Was that why his hair grew everytime Aunt Petunia made him cut it? He didn't lose anything if the tried, right? Uncle Vernon wouldn't know, he couldn't. He concentrated on the broken toy soldier, that was lying besides an old sock, and willed for it to move.

 _Come on… move… stupid thing…_

Nope. The Force didn't exist. And if it did, it wouldn't choose him. Right?

He pushed the Star Wars thoughts aside, and tried to come up with something else to pass time, but found himself with a quiet, blank mind. Three frigging days to himself, of course he didn't have anything else to think about!

And then, he felt it. A tinkling sensation expanded from his head, to the rest of his body and beyond: to his bed, the roof, and suddenly, Harry felt another conciencie in his cupboard.

Startled, and connection broken, Harry sat there, atonished.

 _¿Could it be? Was that… the Force?_

Determined to reach that state again, he tried. And tried. And tried some more. And yet, new questions countiniously sprang to his mind, not allowing him to clear it of all emotion. For days he tried, stopping only to eat and to go to the bathroom, and when he fully understood the need for peace of thought, he could meditate again.

And the moment he reached that state of mind, Harry felt that himself float, and his conscience slowly expanded to the rest of the room, giving him vision even with his eyes closed. And then, he realized that he could feel the spiders that crawled on the roof and their webs, and the bugs trapped in them, he could tell exactly where was that sweet he had stolen from Dudley last month, and the location of his favorite pair of socks, lost last summer...

And when he opened his eyes the world started spinning, and the colours started changing.

Harry blinked. He was in the kitchen, carrying 3 plates in his arms as he heard his cousin.

"…that means that they try to feel the Force around them, and channel it through their bodies to…"

 _What the hell had had happened? How did he get here? This had already happened!_

"Enough, Dudley!" Vernon raged, standing up, face all flushed "Go to your room, NOW"

Harry was startled, and the plates fell. Yet this time, as he watched hopelessly the plates fall to the floor, his arms seemed to move by their own will, spectacularly snatching the things from the air before they made contact with the floor.

 _The Force… It exists!_

Thankfuly, Uncle Vernon didn't realise what had transpired –he was still fuming about Dudley antics-.

"Stupid movies... trying to mess with my son's head, are they? I'll show them, I will!" His neck quicly rotated and his stare located Harry's "Finish with the table and then go work the garden, boy. Your Aunt wants it flourishing, and it better be!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry answered, without thinking. His body was on automated pilot, while his head was working at full speed, trying to understand what had transpired. Maybe he had a good imagination? It made way more sense if it was a deja-vu, not a _vision_... right? Because _visions_ didn't exist, at least that was what Uncle Vernon always said. And yet, he could still feel it, a lot fainter than before, and maybe he was just imaginating things, but he thought he could still feel that tinkling sensation...

Before he knew it, he was on the garden –gloves on and scissors in hand-. His arms expertly handling the Petunias and Begonias his Aunt loved so much, and as he got rid of the weed, his mind started wandering.

 _Should I be disrespectful?_ _I'd get more time alone in the cupboard..._

He cut another weed. The Petunias were infested again!

 _It doesn't feel like the best idea, getting punished on purpose..._

Was Uncle Vernon deaf? He could hear the news from outside... nothing really interesting anyway.

"... president of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachov, has declared that the dissolution of the former is a necessary measure..."

"Ha!" He heard Vernon's gleeful yell "I knew those commies had it coming!"

 _But if I got some time in the cupboard, then I could really find out if I am using the Force..._

"Boy! What in the fricking hell do you think you are you doing! I won't allow such a freakishness in my house! Get in here right now!" The furious whisper came from the open window and travelled through the air, perfectly practiced to not alert anyone but him.

Just what he needed. What had he done now? He was doing his chores, for Christ's sake! Just cutting the goddamned weeds with the... scissors... which were not on his hand.

The scissors... were floating.


	2. He would show them

**A/N:** Hi guys! This is the very first story I ever wrote, so Im just trying to get the hang of the characters and the pacing. I wanted to ask you how do you feel about the story's speed. Sometimes I just feel Im rushing some stuff, other times I feel like the story moves waaay to slow.

If you have feedback on that, or any other kind of advise, I'd thank you.

* * *

The inexplicable floating scissor earned Harry his longest ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Even with all that time in the cupboard, Harry had not been able to reproduce whatever it was he had done that day. His "meditation" gave him no results and he didn't even try making something float. He just knew he couldn't do it.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no scaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house everyday. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the "Force", which gave him a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. But most important, it gave him time, free time to investigate.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," Dudley told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High - like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and - a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives - he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

 **Mr. H. Potter**

 **The Cupboard under the Stairs**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surrey**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

He wouldn't be so stupid as to open it now. Uncle Vernon was still angry about the scissor business and would make anything to make Harry's life miserable, even taking this letter from him. So he quietly pocketed it and returned to the table in silence, dropping the rest of the mail on the table.

He just couldn't wait to open up the letter, so he excused himself promising to do the dishes later, since he was not feeling very well. His walk to the cupboard was uptight and fast paced, almost like that time Uncle Vernon drank too much coffee and had to run to the bathroom, coming back redfaced.

As soon as the door was closed, the envelope addressed in emerald green ink to Mr. H. Potter was in his hand, being ripped apart by his furious fingers. He pulled out the letter and read:

 _ **Dear Mr. Potter**_ ,

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,_

 _Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Grand Sorcerer._

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which was more important.

Magic? Was that what he could do? Where was this Hogwarts? "We await your owl"? What does that mean? Was this some kind of a prank?

Just then, the doorbell rang – "Open the door, mum! The guys are coming today!" – Dudley shouted. Of course, not even today would Dudley's gang give him peace. When he heard their heavy steps above his head, he turned towards the exist of his cupboard. Better being outside than dangerously close to his cousin and his friends.

The weather was better than last week, Harry appreciated. The summer at Privet Drive was quite horrible, and yet this day was cooland refreshing. His feet took him to Magnolia Crescent, and from there, to the park. It was too early for Dudley and his gang to come, Harry was sure they were still watchin that stupid show, The Great Humberto.

His mind wandered to what he had learnerd from that letter. It seemed like there was a whole world of people who could do the same things that he could, and they were accepting him to a school! Of course, Harry had no idea how to get what he needed, but still, it was a conforting thought knowing he wasn't really a freak.

But was he really a wizard? He thought wizards used wands and capes, and he could still do weird stuff without those, right? And what of that Dumbledore guy? What the crap was a Supreme Mugwump anyway?

The questions wouldn't leave him, and as he made his way back home – Harry knew Dudley would be at the park any moment now – he spotted something not very common in Surrey. There, on the branch that sprouted from the pine besides Dudley's second room, was an owl.

"Hoot."

And then it clicked. It looked like this wizards used owls like some kind of trained messengers! It was waiting for his reply! He wasted no time, and as he ran to his cupboard, he had the letter already written in his mind. Asking for help with those things he simply did not know seemed like the most importante thing to do, and so he did.

Soon, the letter was attached to the bird, and with the simple word "Hogwarts", it took flight.

Next day, another letter came, and Harry was ready for it. His relatives being none the wiser, he spent all afternoon working on the garden, waiting for the owl to come back and give the letter directly to him. This time, he opened it right where he was standing. There was no way he was waiting until it was dark.

 _ **Dear Mr. Potter**_ _:_

 _We are sorry to hear about your situation, and we have attached a small guide about the Wizarding World to this letter. Please, refrain from showing it to muggles. If you still have questions, send a new letter and a representative from the school will make an appointment with you._

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress._

Muggles? Wizarding World? Everytime he got new information, new questions arised, replacing the old ones.

The guide Hogwarts had sent him was a really small blue square.

"What the bloody...?"

Harry touched it, and as soon as his fingers made contact, the thing started unshrinking, making horrible noises. He removed his arm as if he would have been shocked by electricity.

"Wow."

The thing had, somewhat, morphed into a tiny book which read "An Intruduction to the Wizarding World for Muggleborns". And as he opened it, his eyes boggled out of their sockets. The pictures were moving! Oh yes... he could smell the freakishness.

* * *

For Harry, the week seemed to fly by. He spent most of his time meditating, in the shadow of a Carob tree that was partially hidden by green and brown bushes. He had succesfully been able to feel the Force a couple of times, and his expanded senses reached all the park. The Force allowed him to feel all the living things in the park, since they were surrounded and bound together by it.

Everytime Harry had accomplished feeling the Force, other strange, uncontrolled things happened around him. Once, a little Begonia sprout grew to its prime in a couple of hours. Some other time, all the little rocks around him rised from the floor and started floating. And the last time, Dudley's gang turned around the corner, but payed him no mind, like he wasn't even there.

Yet Harry was unable to willingly made things happen, they just did when he was attuned with the Force. He noticed, everytime he succeeded, his connection lasted longer and was stronger, yet he could not control whatever gift was decided to bestow upon him, and that was really dangerous. Especially, if the Force decided to reveal itself in presence of the Dursleys.

But today was one of those days he just couldn't focus.

"Bah! I give up." Harry grunted, opening his eyes and taking in the empy park. It did not matter. Today was a big day, an important day. Today, he was going to the Wizarding World!

He had it all planned out. He had stolen a few bucks from under the cushions, barely enough to pay for the bus ride, but enough. He stood up and shook off the little twigs and dirt that sticked to his trousers, and took off to the Bus Station. The Dursley didn't expect him home yet, they had guests and told him to not come back until it was night time.

By the walk, he focused his eyesight on the street sign. It was tall, and blue, and it read "Acanthia Way". Huh, he was already close. Harry had heard that the Polkiss's house was on this street, and it didn't surprise him. It was as carefully normal as Privet Drive. It would do him no good if Piers's family saw him, so he decided to walk by the trees – he was mostly camuflaged that way-.

He arrived by the bus station exactly one minute before the bus was supposed to come. He had sneaked into Dudley's room again and checked the timetable on the internet –and the prices too!-. Harry was still afraid about Hogwarts. Was he going to be able to afford it? Maybe his parents were wizards and they had left him something?

There, he could see it! The bus was on its way, and with it, Harry's freedom.

* * *

The ride to London transpired quietly and uneventfull, as did his walk to the Leaky Cauldron's adress. It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub, and if he didn't know that it was exactly what he was looking for, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he could see it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry approached him, evading people that came and went "Could you please open the gate to the Alley for me?"

The man gave him a knowing smile. He jerked his head towards the back, urging Harry to follow him. "Muggleborn, eh, lad? No problem, no problem, though I'm surprised no one from Hogwarts is here with you. They shouldn't leave you alone!" They reached a great brick wall, and the man took out his wand.

He carelessly touched a few bricks with it, and the seemingly solid fortification started opening with haste.

The man winked at him "Name's Tom. Welcome to the Wizarding World!".

"Harry. Thank you, sir!"

He stepped through the alley. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as he walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

 _Gringotts_

Harry knew the Gringotts's passage on the introductory book he was given like the palm of his hand. After all, if he was to buy anything, then he would need money. He hastened his pace.

About a hundred goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry made for the counter.

"Yes?" Greeted the goblin.

"Hi, er, hello, sir" Harry had read about goblins. They were a proud race, one to treat with respect. "I am an orphan, and I was wondering if my parents had left me anything."

"What is your name, wizard?" Said the goblin, still ruffling through the papers on the desk.

"Potter, sir. Harry Potter."

The being looked up from his glasses, his eyes briefly reaching his scar.

"So it seems, Mr. Potter" The goblin finally replied, after what felt like a long scrutiny "There is indeed a vault to your name."

Harry couldn't believe his luck! He had money, at least, some money! If it was enough to buy his wand, he'd be so happy...

"And yet, we do not know if you really are who you claim you are, do we, Mr. Potter?"

He was heartbroken. Even if his parents did leave him something, he may never claim it...

"But, happily, we can test if you are who you say!" Added the goblin, maliciously "All it'd take, is a drop of your blood on this sheet." The being pushed a yellowish scroll towards him.

Harry didn't have to think it twice. If this was the only way he could ever leave the Dursleys, then a drop of blood was a very, very small price to pay. He looked at the goblin, and nodded.

"Marvelous!" The thing exclaimed "Now, Mr. Potter, please touch the scroll with a finger, do not worry, it won't hurt"

Harry wasn't really nervous. After all, he WAS Harry Potter. But just by looking at the gleeful goblin, he suspected that if he weren't, then something quite bad would happen to him. He pushed his index finger forward, touching the parchment...

"Ow!" Harry cried.

 _Wouldn't hurt? Wouldn't hurt my..._

The goblin snatched the paper, a frown passing on his face as he examined it Finally, it was replaced by a blank look.

"That seems to be in order." He said "Very well. I'll have someone take you down to your vault. When you come back, there will be a new key for you." He added, as the blood test started floating on its own, reaching the top of a tall pile of papers. "Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Harry followed him towards one of the doors leading of the wall.

Griphook held the door open for him. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in, and were off.

The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall. Harry got out of it, seemingly unaffected by the ride. Griphook eyed him curiosly.

The goblin unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

All Harry's - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep?

Harry already knew about the currencies – he had read it on his guide-. The gold ones were Galleons, Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle.

One wild cart ride later he stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry knew exactly where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. Ollivander's.

The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

And another tingle made him aware of what was around him. The Force was warning him. There was a man in the dark!

"Mr. Ollivander?"

"Oh, my! Its been some time since someone has discovered me...! Ah, yes yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter."

Harry thought the goblins should hire Ollivander instead of pinching people's fingers.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Harry a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head.

As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenixtail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wandsare the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. And Ollivander snatched it from his hands again.

"Weird... I though that was the one for sure..." Ollivander mused "Mr. Potter, let me ask you a question. What do you feel when you touch the wands?"

"Hmm, what do you mean, what do I feel?"

"Exactly, Potter, exactly. What do you feel when you touch them?" Ollivander looked anxious, and Harry wondered if it had something to do with the three angry people waiting for their turns at the shop's door.

"Er—well, I think I don't feel anything..."

"Nothing... huh." Ollivander seemed perplexed "Well, Mr. Potter, Im sorry to break this out to you but... I think you may be a squib."

Great. Maybe his Uncle was right and he was a freak. "What do you mean, a squib?"

 _...Please, not something bad... ...Please, not something bad... ...Please, not something bad..._

"I'm afraid its something bad."

 _Crap_

"It means, Mr. Potter, that you are not a wizard. Properly speaking, a squib is a person who was born from magical parents, but does not posses the ability. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but at least one of this wands should have reacted to you –even in a bad way- but none did."

Harry felt his heart ache. He wasn't a wizard? How come? And what about those thing he could do? They were most certainly not normal!

"But, Mr. Ollivander, maybe I need to try more wands, none of those chose me, but maybe another one will!" Harry desperately said.

"I am sorry, my boy, but there is nothing to be done. I am no expert, but still, I am sure," Ollivander said "If you want to, you can get checked at St. Mungo..."

Harry turned, still trying to process the information. Why was his life so complicated? Would they let him to Hogwarts now? He wasn't even a wizard, he didn't even have a wand. The list said the wand was obligatory. What was he to do now? There was no way he was going back to the Dursley's, not knowing that he had a small fortune in a bank... Tears formed in his eyes as he left Ollivander's, his feet carrying him to the crowded magical street.

What had wondered him one hour ago, now broke his heart. As he longily stared at the cauldrons, he knew that even if he wasn't a wizard, even if he didn't have the "ability", even if he would never fit in this magical - in every way – world, he still was _something else_.

 _And he would show them._


	3. A message from the past

An old man's hands trembled as he put down the letter he had just finished reading. He rubbed his temples, wondering if this was just a ruse or the contents of the letter were indeed correct.

It made no sense.

 _It was impossible!_

But the letter was written, without a doubt, with Garrick's handwriting.

"Tibby!"

A little creature with bat-like ears and bulging brown eyes the size of a tennis balls appeared in the room, a loud sound along with it.

"Yes, Master Headmaster, sir?

"Get me a glass of firewhiskey. And bring the bottle, please."

The little elf shook his head.

* * *

The room Harry had rented at the Leaky Cauldron was dark and cold. The third floor board –counting from the door to the window- insulted him on various languages each time he stepped on it, and the ragged bed seemed to move on its own will –each morning, he woke in another location in the room-. Harry thought it was cool.

Since the day he found out he was a squib, Harry's mood dangerously oscilated between 2 states –joy, and emptiness-. Finally, he was free from his relatives, but at the same time, he knew he'd never fit in the Wizarding World.

But even if it was true, even if he was a squib, Harry wouldn't give up. The first time he armed himself with courage and faced the world again, the thing he set out to do was to investigate the Force. If there was a group of people who could know something about his supernatural abilities, it'd be the wizards. He felt really let down when the only thing that he found about magic without wands was barely mentioned in an ancient textbook, and it specified it was a taxing and very complex magic.

Understanding that maybe he'd never find someone to teach him the ways of the Force, Harry decided to walk them by himself, and to create them from the very bottom. And so, the days went by, and Harry kept himself locked in the room trying to lift the History of Magic books he had bought.

 _Meditation._

 _Blessed, tiresome, boring, and rewarding meditation._

It had been a while since Harry felt so frustrated. As soon as he managed to penetrate the Force, its presence soon would become overwhelming and luminous, filling his conscience in such a way that he usually lost concentration and the connection broke. The Leaky Cauldron was so full of the Force, so full of radiant, powerful magic, that he simply could not endure the sensorial onslaught.

"Freaking goddamned magic." He mumbled.

There was only one place in the entire Alley where he could successfully touch the Force. Gringotts.

Goblins didn't allow wizards to use magic at Gringotts. In fact, it was forbbidden. Harry knew it had something to do with the wand prohibition that goblins suffered since the rebellions of Urg the Unclean, but he didn't fully undertand the technical details.

And so, he found himself at the bank's door.

He entered paying no mind to the goblins that sat on the tall and dark stools and made for the waiting room, pretending to be another ordinary customer. He sat on one of the empty chairs, and braced himself for the overwhelming sensations, because even if there was no magic in Gringotts's Halls, the Force shone like a beacon inside each goblin and wizard.

It didn't take long until Harry's senses sharpened beyond normal, and the Force started to flow from and into him. He could feel the gray hairs on each goblin head, the vibrating wands on the wizards's pockets, the little fly that just entered the bank that suddenly vanished –victim of some kind of spell- and then... he could feel something more, something that felt just right, that felt exactly like the Force did. Maybe another Force user? A squib?

 _Was it a..._

"Wizard! It's your turn already!"

Harry opened his eyes, clearly annoyed by the sudden light, and groggily focused his sight.

"Hm? Oh, ehm, sorry, Mr. Goblin..." Harry

"Well, get on with it already, wizard." The goblin snapped, without looking at him.

"I think I, ehm, I forgot my key! Yes, I forgot it. I am always forgetting stuff, I apologize, Mr. Goblin…" Harry said, pretending to search his pockets. Life with the Dursleys had trained him well.

"Stop wasting my time then."

Without looking at him, the goblin made a gesture with his hand, and he knew he was being dismissed. He turned and went for the door, avoiding a particularly nasty looking man who was yelling at another teller.

Harry had the most peculiar feeling that the sunrays were greeting him as he stepped out of the bank. The Force seemed to fill every inch of the street, its song warm and cheerful.  
He felt a push to go left, and he allowed the Force to carry him wherever it deemed necessary.

 _What was that thing he had felt at the bank?_

It didn't feel alive, yet it didn't feel dead either.

"Look!" Harry heard "The new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever –"Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. Harry sighed, and turned.

The shop if front of him looked nicer than the rest of the stores; at least it was clean and had some light coming from it. A wooden sign hanged on top of the door, silver letters carved over the wood. It read: The Lonely Squib.

It seemed like the Force had a cinic stroke. Without second thought, he left.

* * *

"¡Me cago en todos tus muertos!"

Harry winced, taking another step into the room. It looked like Spanish was the insulting board's favorite language. He still remembered it yelling at him in something that seemed like a lot of screeching. It reminded him of Aunt Petunia.

 _¿What had become of the Dursleys?_

Harry hadn't spared much thought to his relatives, and frankly, he didn't really cared about them, but… they were still his family, even if they didn't like him. It had been a couple of weeks since that day he left their home, and Harry felt guilty about not contacting them.

 _Would they be worried?_

Nah. He remembered Uncle Vernon always talked about dropping him in an orphanage if he didn't behave. And even if they were, Harry was not letting them steal his money.

He sat on the grubby chair that randomly appeared in the room the day before yesterday, and took one of the books from the pile in the bed. The cover looked like a true work of art, golden letters over the image of a smiling man. A Guide for the Happy Squib, it read. He opened the book where he had left the other night.

… _and that's another reason why squibs should try to mingle with muggles as much as possible..._

Now he remembered why he had only read the first three pages.

There was not much to do in the Alley once you had bought everything you needed. And Harry already had bought all the needed supplies for Hogwarts, even if he didn't know if he was allowed to go. He tried researching about successful squibs, but not a single one of them had done something remarkable on wizarding history, or at least, that was what it looked like.

Of course, he could still read the Hogwarts textbooks, but what good would that do?

That left him with only one other option, and a cup of Crazyberry juice later, he found himself at Gringotts once again.

Harry could see his very own face staring at him on the white marble that prevailed at the bank. People came and went as usual, but a curious tingle on his neck warned him that there was something special about that day.

The squib already knew his way around the bank like he knew his very own cupboard, and made for the furthest sitting spot that he favored. There stood a simple, comfy chair that no one seemed to notice. It was the only witness to his meditation sessions.

He easily made contact. Harry was surprised to feel something strange today. The Force seemed nervous, expecting something that would have an impact upon it.

 _Oh! There it was again!_

Harry had tried to feel the thing he had found here the first time, but had failed every time until now. It felt close, as if it was… in front of him.

"Harry Potter. Is the bank's chair comfortable enough for you?"

A rather strange –even for a goblin- specimen was standing before him. He wore a long dark coat, his hair seemed whiter than the rest of the goblins and his face bore way more wrinkles too. In his chest, hanged a blue cube.

"Well?" He said "Why do you keep coming every day? Did you think we wouldn't notice?"

Harry felt a lump form in his throat.

"I…wish to buy something from you, Sir."

 _What? He wished to buy something from the goblin? Where did that come from?_

The goblin's eyes shone with a malicious glint.

"And what would that be, hm?"

He felt the Force become unrest, urging him to look at the goblin's amulet with all its might.

"Your amulet, Sir." Harry said.

Surprise flashed in the goblin's face, and it was gone as fast as it came.

"This?" The creature asked. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but this is a clan heirloom. I think I don't want to part with it, unless you are willing to make a very good offer."

 _Fair enough._

Harry didn't really know what it was, but he felt like the Force was advising him to get that cube, no matter what.

"I think it'd cost you... half your vault."

"Im sorry?"

"Half your vault, Mr. Potter... and at the time of your demise, it shall come back to us."

 _Greedy, damnable little pieces of shit!_

Harry sensed something fishy. That thing didn't nearly look goblin made; it was too technological for it to be, too flashy and colorful!

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that thing is not goblin made. You can't really expect me to give it back!" Harry exclaimed.

The goblin sent him a hateful look and spoke "Two thirds of your vault, then".

It sure looked like the goblin didn't want to part with the thing, thank you very much.

But the Force begged him to get it.

"Deal."

* * *

The amulet remained untouched on the bag as he walked to his room at the Leaky Cauldron. What had he done?! He was a squib for Christ's sake! He would never get a job in the Magical World, and going back to the muggles was out of question! He really needed that money! All to buy this... this trinket!

And yet, he felt it. The Force seemed to sing stories of old and new around him, soothing and calming.

He made his entrance and jumped over the insulting board, took a turn left and headed for the bed. It was of no use having second thoughts, he told to himself. He had already done the deed, and there was no coming back. Still, he couldn't figure out why did the Force wanted him to get the thing so much, even if it meant jeopardizing his future.

And when he finally sat on the bed and looked into the bag, he understood why.

It _'_ s color, dark blue. A complex layout symmetrically graced the sides of the object, giving it an ancient look. Some strange crystalline material was used to construct the sides of the cube, which lighted up as soon as his fingers made contact with it.

Embellished, Harry rotated the thing in his hands, taking in every aspect of it.

Click.

 _Did I just break it?!_

Harry almost threw the thing at the bed when it started to change its form.

A blue light flickered into existence, taking a human form.

" _Greetings. I am Jedi Master Cor-Na and this, is a holonote._

 _I have foreseen the destruction of the Core Worlds, along with the Jedi Order. I resigned the Order, and took with me all the holocrons and tools I could. They call me a traitor and a thief, but in time they will understand. My objective is to find a somewhat developed planet on the Outer Rims, where the Jedi Order could flourish again with the guidance of the Force._

 _In this planet, I'll hide those bits of Jedi knowleadge. This will be my last mission, I am old and I hurt for the future I have seen. I'm sure that when you watch this, I'll be long gone. It is up to you, to reconstruct the Order and bring peace to the galaxy._

 _Before I grant you access to the rest of the secrets I stored on this device, you must understand this:_

 _There is no death, there is only the Force._

 _There is no emotion, there is peace._

 _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

 _There is no passion, there is serenity._

 _There is no chaos, there is harmony._

 _There is no death, there is the Force._

 _When you fully get the meaning behind those words, come to me again and I shall judge. You are not ready yet._

 _Good luck, and may the Force be with you."_

Huh.

Harry scratched the back of his head.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi guys! Thank you so much for the reviews and feedback, I'm quite the noob, so it's much appreciated.

I understand you have some questions, like **how could have Harry gotten a Hogwarts letter if he was a squib** , or if **Harry is going to outer space or not**. Well, you'll have to wait and see!

I wouldn't be a very good author if I revealed the entire plot the very first chapters, right?

See you soon!

P.S: What do you guys think about the story's pacing?


	4. Fear leads to anger

_I should have listened to N4-D2._

His back leaned against a black carob tree, his muscles tensed. His senses sharpened and he tried to ease his breathing, but it resulted impossible. His heart beat a mile per hour.

He could hear muffled steps a few meters away from the tree, and he decided the course of action in an instant. He jumped from his hideout and ran towards another tree, knowing that five stronger and faster creatures were right behind him.

When he reached it he kept running up the tree, to the creature's surprise. He jumped backwards from the trunk and landed with extended arms, looking for balance.

A horrible, hairy and giant arachnid stood facing the tree Harry had just jumped from. It didn't take long for the creature to smash against the tree, a strange and invisible force hurling it with no compassion.

Harry turned around and faced the rest of the spiders. Their fangs made strange metallic noises as they chewed on air. They looked furious.

One of them pounced on him, and Harry felt his body react on its own. The spider tried to bite his neck, but Harry had already ducked. From crouching position, his feet impulsed him up and backwards, performing a back-flip. As he flew through the air he stretched his legs, kicking the spider on the head and making it shriek. Harry landed on his feet. The creature had fled.

The rest of the spiders seemed to have disappeared. Of course, if they attacked at the same time, Harry doubted his defense would be as effective. But spiders knew nothing of strategy. He was sure of that from his time in the cupboard.

Sneaking through the trees, Harry analyzed the place he was in. The black oak forest was a wooden hell. Some of the baleful trees seemed to move, as if they wanted to grab him and rip him apart. Others whispered to him, promising power and knowledge beyond this time. Harry doubted that would come for free.

 _Why was he here again?_

Ah, yes. The holocron.

Two years had passed since that day at the Leaky Cauldron. Of course, the first days all he did was playing over and over the message, fearing it a ruse. Later, came the insecurities. Where to begin? Was there someone else on the planet with his abilities? Was he ready to take such a responsibility?

Then, the adventure. He still remembered the second holocron he had acquired. It was funny, because he had to infiltrate a dragon's cave and steal it from under its nose. Okay, maybe it wasn't funny at all, but still. In the end, it was worthy. He had learned how to enhance his body with the Force from that holocron, so the burn he still carried on his left arm was a cheap price to pay.

He quickly turned around. He had felt something moving in the dark…

They were back. Spiders.

He continued walking, expecting an attack any moment now. And of course, it came.

Harry's body seemed to dance with grace as he avoided the poisonous fangs. The creatures had decided to attack all at once, enraged by the death of their sister. He punched, kicked, jumped, and kicked again, but the spider's hide seemed too thick to damage without the direct use of the Force.

A heavy, dark branch came flying to his hands as he front flipped, escaping the circle the arachnids were forming around him. He wielded the club like a caveman, finesse forgotten. It was proven effective as he blew off one of the spider's legs with a strong blow, black blood smearing his face.

 _Ugh._

The arachnids were slowly getting dismembered by the club. He had gotten one of them on the head, and five of its eight eyes were ripped off from its face. The screech had been horrible to hear. Two others were sporting wounds on their hides, blood pouring out of them. The last one was a few meters away, turned into a bloody pulp.

A throbbing pain on his shoulder was all the warning he got. He had been bitten.

Harry saw red. He was angry at himself for not being able to defeat the spiders, he was angry at the spiders for biting him, he was angry at the destiny for giving him such responsibility, he was angry at magic for making him a squib.

By the time he finally stopped swinging his weapon, the last creature was turned into an unrecognizable mess. He was distantly conscious that he had been cackling as he destroyed the spider's already dead body, but Harry had more pressing matters to attend to.

For example, he was bleeding, and the poison was surely on his bloodstream already.

He made for the clearing he had seen when he had gotten to the forest. His body felt more and more weak each step he took, but he fed more of the Force to his limbs, allowing him to stay on track.

His head rambled to his time with the Dursleys and a soft, mad laugh escaped his lips. Was this the way he would die? Murdered by his very first and only friends, the spiders?

He reached what he had thought was a clearing, and spotted an enormous and majestic castle. Then, Harry Potter blacked out.

* * *

"Albus! Albus! Is it true?"

An old witch with a pointy hat was running to reach the School's Headmaster.

"What is it you are asking, dear Minerva?" He smiled at her.

"Don't play dumb with me, Headmaster! I heard some Hufflepuffs talking just a moment ago." The stern professor said "One of them said that he had found a boy on the borders of the Forest. Is it true?"

"I'm afraid yes, it's true. His condition is stable; Madam Pomfrey has done wonders on the boy's body. Though you will be happy to know it is not one of the School's students. We are investigating how he even got here." Dumbledore calmly answered.

"Albus… I heard another thing, too. I heard this boy has a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, just like Harry did. Could it be him? Has he finally returned to us?"

The Supreme Mugwump gave her a sad look.

"Yes, Minerva. I think he is Harry Potter. Come, accompany me to my office. There is much I need to tell you."

* * *

His eyes were open. Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in some kind of hospital place. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled with his clothes.

 _What had happened?_

Oh. He remembered now. The spiders.

He escaped the sheets and grabbed his dark clothes, noticing the blood stains on them. He shook his head. The smell would never leave.

As he sneaked for the great wooden doors, he tried to concentrate and feel the place he was in. He was thrown to his knees as the light invaded his mind and the world started vibrating. He quickly cut out the connection.

This was obviously a very magical place. Maybe the castle he had seen before blacking out?

It did not matter. He had to leave and had to leave right now. If the wizards found him…Harry had discovered who he was to the Wizarding World a bit late, a very bad experience altogether. He needed to be sneaky, a shadow in the night if he was to get all the holocrons Cor-Na had left scattered through the world, and being a celebrity wouldn't help with that.

That was why he needed the new holocron so much. He thought it may contain the knowledge to acquire the ability to have visions at will, like Master Yoda used to do. If he were to learn that, it'd make his job much, much easier.

To get some clues about holocron's whereabouts, Harry had to resort to buying information at the black market, and a lot of times they were just false leads. Now, with his vault almost emptied, his only hope was to get that knowledge as soon as possible.

He sneaked through the wide corridor, reaching the staircases that were around the corner. Harry noticed the painting of an old witch winking at him.

 _Where to go now?_

He could go on, or could turn right. Following his gut, Harry headed forward and stopped on his tracks as he reached a great saloon with moving stairways and hundreds of Portaits covering the walls.

 _What the fuck?_

A lot of people seemed to come and go, but none payed him attention. There were just too many things to look at.

After ten minutes coming and going, yet not getting anywhere, Harry sighed. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at the place: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. He could see two people coming straight at him.

"Ronald, stop eating with your mouth open!" A bushy haired girl around his age snapped.

The guy looked at her, childish grin forming in his face.

"Hermione, I'll stop eating with my mouth open when you stop reading at meals!"

The guy bumped into him, and kept on walking. Hermione stopped and turned to face him.

"I'm sorry. He is just a dunderhead sometimes." She turned again "Come on Ron, accompany me to the library."

"Wait! Do you know how can I get to the forest outside?" Harry impulsively asked.

She gave him a cautious look.

"The Forest? You mean the grounds, right? The Forest is called Forbidden for a reason, you know?"

A Forest called Forbidden?

 _He was at Hogwarts?!_

"Yes, of course, I meant the grounds." Harry said.

She threw him a suspicious look.

"Well, keep going straight until you find the painting of Gulpa the Barmy. He is a goblin wearing a strange hat. There you need to turn left and will see an armchair, you need to tickle it. That will make the staircase you need come to you. Board it and it will take you to the door to the grounds."

"Oh!" Harry said, not understanding half what she had said. "Thank you!" he turned and started walking.

"Wait! What is your name?" She called.

"Dudley. Dudley Dursley." He answered, without turning.

* * *

"He is gone! He is simply gone!" A white dressed woman exclaimed.

"Yes, I was afraid this would happen." Dumbledore said, stroking his beard.

"What do you mean you expected it to happen?" The witch asked "It should be impossible; no one should be able to leave the Wing without me noticing! There is a ward in place!"

"Oh, I'm sure the ward works just fine, Poppy" The old warlock said.

He turned and faced the window in his office, spotting a dark figure entering the Forbidden Forest.

"What do you mean, Albus?" She asked.

"I'm afraid, Poppy, that Mr. Potter is a squib. That's the reason the ward didn't spot him."

"¡¿WHAT?! The son of James and Lily?! No, Albus. I can't believe that, I just can't…" Her tone of voice turning down as she spoke. "...poor boy…"

"Yet, his name is in Hogwarts records. A letter was sent to him, and he even replied, asking for more information. It came as a surprise to all of us when he just didn't show up two years ago." The old wizard said "Mr. Potter has lost his magic someway; he has done what we thought impossible once again. "

"It doesn't make sense, Albus. It's just not possible to lose ones magic! And how could a thirteen year old squib kill so many acromantulas anyway?!"

"Ah, the mystery of Mr. Potter deepens, Poppy. I have a theory, but I'm not sure yet. Of what I am sure, is that Mr. Potter has just entered the Forest again, and that he is looking for something in there."

"And what are you waiting to go get him, Headmaster?! He is just a boy, and one without magic!"

"I think Mr. Potter may have many surprises in stock for us, Madam. Let's wait until he decides to reveal them himself."

* * *

He was washing his face and drinking from a lake he had found at the forest. The white light of the moon was reflected on the crystalline water.

"Harry Potter."

Harry turned, calling the Force to his muscles, and found himself looking at a creature he had never seen. A centaur.

"The stars have predicted your arrival, Harry Potter. Mars shines brighter than ever." The thing had a bow on his hands, a quiver full of sharp arrows hanging from one shoulder and a leather bag hanging from the other.

Harry tensed.

"Er, thank you, I guess." He replied.

The centaur grabbed the bag and threw it at the floor before him.

"On your shoulders there is a heavy burden, Harry Potter. The stars have spoken. My name is Bane and this is my herd's gift to you."

Harry made to pick it up, but one of the centaur's hooves stepped on it.

"But heed my warning, Harry Potter. We were watching when the spiders and you had your contest. We understand that sometimes, life has to be taken. But beware, if you let your anger control you, all you hold dear you will destroy."

The centaur lifted his hoof, and Harry snatched the bag. When he looked up, he was alone again.

He took a peek inside, and saw the holocron waiting for him.


End file.
